A voice whispered in her head. I will lean on Amon Byrne for the rest of my life.

After a brief silence, he said, “If it means anything, I think you made the right decision. Leaving the Fells, I mean.”

Raisa blinked up at him. “How did you know that’s what was bothering me?”

“Lucky guess,” Amon said, looking away and shrugging his shoulders. “You’re not one to run from a fight, and you can hold your own with most anyone in a fair go. But how could you hope to fight your mother and the High Wizard both?”

“But my mother’s the queen,” Raisa said. “How can I expect others to bend their knees to me if I rebel against my liege ruler? How can my people trust me if I run away?”

Amon gazed down at their joined hands. For once he didn’t pull away. “You pick a battle you can win, and choose the time and place of it. Don’t let the enemy choose.”

“Is that what they teach you at Wien House?”

“It’s what my da says. The Bayars wouldn’t have risked pushing this marriage and enraging the clans if they weren’t sure of the outcome.”

Raisa sighed. Somehow, out here in the lonely dark of this peculiar autumn, what had happened back in Fellsmarch Castle on her name day seemed like an overwritten melodrama starring somebody else.

“They could be wrong. The Bayars, I mean.”

“Aye, they could be,” Amon said, his voice measured. Meaning he doubted it.

“She does resist Lord Bayar sometimes,” Raisa persisted, somehow compelled to defend her mother. “Maybe it’s more a matter of influence than control.”

“Maybe. Still, you’d be married to Micah Bayar if you’d stayed.”

Micah. Raisa looked up at the stars, focusing, trying to dispel the memory of Micah’s face, of the kisses that had sizzled through her like flame through paper.

“Let’s talk about what will happen when we get to Oden’s Ford,” she said, suddenly eager to change the subject.

“I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered the idea of going to the Temple School?” Amon said this with little hope.

Raisa sighed. “Except for my time at Demonai Camp, I’ve studied art, music, and languages all my life. I need to learn something else.”

She looked up into his face, willing him to understand. “Going to Oden’s Ford is risky, but it’s also an opportunity. None of the Gray Wolf queens has gone there, not recently, anyway. I’ll learn things my mother can’t teach me. The queendom is under siege, and we’re running out of time.” Raisa suddenly realized she was gripping Amon’s hand really hard, and let go her death hold a bit.

Amon looked sideways at her. “Because of what happened with the Bayars?”

Raisa shook her head. “It’s not just them. I feel like the sand is washing from under my feet.” She laughed bitterly. “I sound like my mother, the melancholy queen. But, unlike her, I’m not willing to trade sovereignty for protection.” She paused. “The problem with the gift of prophecy is you’re never sure if it’s a true vision or just the doldrums setting in.